"Is there anything more you want? Besides the Shady Lady?"

"Such as?"

He paused a moment before saying, "A family."

She straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. "I have a family. Mollie and Helena, Old Jess and Big Saul. Francesca now. We have each other. Are you gonna tell me my idea of a family is wrong?"

"No. As long as you're happy." He plucked a long stem of a weed and twirled it between his fingers. "Most females want a husband is all. Children."

She was quiet again.

He'd probably said the wrong thing. It wasn't likely that a whore would find much of a husband. Maybe having everyone else's husband was plenty more than enough.

"I had a husband once," she told him.

That revelation stunned him into silence.

"I wouldn't wish that fate on my worst enemy," she went on. "Well, my worst enemies do have husbands, I guess." She opened both hands to gesture as she said that. "Serves them right."

She'd been married? He stared at her.

Lily could have bitten off her tongue for telling him that. He was looking at her as though it was hard to believe someone like her could have had a husband, as if the title itself meant something honorable. Next thing she knew, he'd be poking and prying into her past, and it wouldn't be in her best interests for a lawman to know she'd stabbed and killed the man she'd been married to.

"What happened to him?"

Here it came. "He got what he deserved."

The sheriff blessedly didn't question her further. She glanced over and couldn't help admiring his muscled shoulders and back. His body was a palette of shadows and his face a solemn mask of mystery. She normally saw him with his hat pulled low, but now, even though it was dark, his wet slicked-back hair revealed his chiseled and handsome features.

Nathaniel Harding was a man to make a woman weak in the knees-even a woman who didn't want or need a man.

In seven years Lily hadn't looked twice at one man. Not until this sheriff had arrested her attention and disturbed her peace. She had wondered, though. There were a couple of the girls who claimed sex had been pleasurable for them-exciting even. Lily didn't buy it, but she had to wonder why some couples seemed happy. She would never trust a man, but she was curious.

Apparently, she held a slim thread of trust for the sheriff-maybe it was his badge, or the fact that he actually behaved like a gentleman around her-because she wasn't afraid to be here with him, not even in this intimate situation.

"Don't act so shocked, Sheriff. It's insulting."

"No insult meant. I just-didn't know, that's all."

"Now you do. And you're thinking I was a poor widow driven to prostitution."

He said nothing, confirming her perception. She had the inkling that he found her repulsive because of what he thought she did for a living.

"You still think me'n my girls are in the sportin' business, don't you?"

He tilted his head to the side in lieu of a reply.

"You think my customers buy more than liquor and dances."

"I really can't say, Lily."

"Come home with me."

"What?"

"Come see for yourself. If I ran a whorehouse, there would be men there. In the upstairs rooms-with the women."

"Unless you warned them ahead of time."

"Warned them about what? It's not illegal, so what would I be afraid of? You could pop in the Nugget right now and get an eyeful, but you couldn't make any arrests."

"Why's it so important to you to prove this to me?"

She didn't know. She wished she did. She'd never cared a whit what anyone thought before, and she sure didn't know why she should start with Nathaniel Harding.

"Ask anyone," she said. "Ask any man in town if he's ever bought favors at the Shady Lady."

"And any man would deny it."

Lily hit the ground in frustration. "Well, hell."

He laughed, and the sound irritated her.

"What's so funny?"

"You."

She stood and marched toward her pile of clothing with as much dignity as she could muster wrapped only in a towel. Her skin was cool and dry now, and she worked her way into her pantalettes and dress, but carried her corset and stockings in a fist as she moved to stand beside the roan. She couldn't get into a corset alone and never wore one on her return trip.

A few minutes later, she turned at the sound of the sheriff walking toward her. He'd dressed and buckled on his holster. He reached around her to pluck his hat from where it hung on the butt of his Remington. His nearness created an unexpected flutter in her chest.

"I'll get up first and then help you up," he said. He was standing so close she could feel the heat of his body against her cooled flesh.

She should have stepped away, but her feet weren't cooperating with her head.

She could smell him, the clean fresh scent of man and night air that clung to his hair and skin. The image of his sleekly muscled arms and shoulders in the moonlight rattled her composure and made her heart skip a series of beats. Her head felt curiously light.

She studied the lines of his face, her gaze dropping to his mouth. She'd never been kissed. Not really kissed. Not with any feeling or tenderness, and she somehow instinctively knew that this man could satisfy her curiosity.

She imagined leaning into him...closing her eyes...absorbing his heat...tasting his mouth...

"Oh, hell," he said in a rasp.

Lily had closed her eyes in that moment of fantasy, and the dream became reality when the sheriff's mouth came down over hers. Not tender by any means, but not rough or abrupt, either. The feel of his lips against hers engulfed her senses.

He urged a response from her with the melding of their mouths and the velvet stroke of his tongue against her lips, until she opened her mouth and tentatively returned the stimulating caress.

Lily pressed her palms flat against his shirtfront, absorbed his warm strength and discovered the hard plane of his chest. Her fingers grazed the tin star, and she brushed her hands upward to encircle his neck and cling to him.

The sheriff's hands circled her waist and drew her flush against his body. In that revealing instant, all she'd been robbed of came into distinct focus. This thrilling delight was what the girls had described. This yearning, this compulsion for physical and spiritual unity, was what a woman should feel for a man-a husband.

The wholesome honesty of somehow feeling precious and desired was a pleasure she'd never known or felt.

Never. Ever.

Not even her own father had valued her or anything she had to give. Her husband had taken her with force, had never cared for her or treated her with respect.

The dignity she felt in this man's arms was the last thing she'd expected and probably the last thing he'd intended, but it was there all the same.

He ended the kiss, burying his face in her neck and splaying his hands across her back to keep her so close she could feel the beat of his heart as though it were her own.

Lily clung to him, opening her eyes to the stars in the night sky, expecting them to have changed or fallen after such an earth-shattering experience. But the stars were still in place. The frogs still croaked along the stream bank, and she was still Lily Divine. But a changed Lily Divine. One who knew exactly what she'd been missing. And precisely what she could never have.

The sheriff's breath against her ear sent shivers across her shoulders, and her breasts were supremely sensitive against the fabric of her dress. She realized she'd dropped her corset and stockings without a thought, because she was pulling him close with both hands at his back.

He straightened then, to look into her face. His thumb stroked her cheek in a delicate caress, and she gazed into his eyes in the darkness, wishing for light so she could read his expression. Night was okay, though. If it was regret, she didn't want to know.

She feared suddenly that he would apologize or tell her that this had been a mistake, and she didn't want to acknowledge that just yet. She made the first move and pulled away, bending to grab up her corset and stockings. She made a halfhearted attempt to tame her hair, which was drying into a wild mane of curls.

"Go ahead, Sheriff." She gestured to his horse. "I'm ready."

He looked at her curiously, but he stepped away to pick up his hat and settle it on his head. With a creak of leather, he set his foot and pulled himself into the saddle, then reached for her.

Lily tucked her unmentionables under one arm and grasped his hand to swing up behind him.

With the taste of him on her lips, his smell in her head and his solid, warm body before her, she wrapped her arms around his waist and enjoyed the last moments of closeness as they rode back.

The sheriff took it slow, as though he wanted to make the most of the ride, as well. When he reined the horse in before her house, he started to dismount, but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Stay."

She managed to swing her leg across the horse's rump and dismount, landing on her wooden doorstep. She adjusted her skirts and bodice and looked up at him with her chin raised.

"Just so you know, Sheriff...I'm not sorry."

"Neither am I, Lily."

His words made her want to cry. She took her key from her pocket and let herself inside, quickly closing the door behind her and leaning against it.

But she was sorry. Sorry that she knew now. Sorry she'd never have what she'd merely glimpsed and felt this night. There was nothing she could do to change her circumstances. Sorry was a waste of energy.

And Lily was an overcomer. She would get over this, too.

She wouldn't let a silly kiss change anything.

She was Lily Divine.

SUNDAY ARRIVED on the tail of Saturday night, just as he feared it would. Nate thought of all the things he'd planned to do with his free time, and then resigned himself. He'd promised.

He was going to church.

He dressed in his finest shirt and trousers, tying a new string tie at his throat and donning his polished boots and holster.

Seemed a mite odd to wear his gun to church, but he was the sheriff, after all. People expected to be protected, and he'd feel buck naked without it, anyway.

Reed's finest buggies were hired out this morning as townspeople arrived. A row of parked ranchers' wagons stretched along the road to the west, and people milled in the churchyard.

Nate approached the gathering and walked through the open gate in the white picket fence. It wasn't as though he'd never been to church before. He'd been married in a church. He'd been to funerals. He'd followed a wanted man into the midst of a revival meeting once and had nearly lost him to Jesus before he could get the handcuffs on.

Some of the looks cast his way were those of surprise, but most glances were friendly as he approached the stairs and the open doors.

"Good morning, Sheriff." Reverend Bacon greeted him with a firm handshake. "Welcome to God's house."

"Thanks."

Inside the small building, the church members were taking their seats on long wooden benches. Nate spotted the Gibbs family, and the mayor and Beatrice stepped out into the aisle so Nate could sidle in and sit beside Evangeline.

She wore a lavender-and-white-checked bonnet that matched her dress this morning, and she moved acres of skirts aside so he could sit. She met his gaze with a demure smile.

The reverend led all the verses and choruses of several hymns, and Nate knew where the Intolerants got in all their practicin'. The message was about David and King Saul, and Nate found the history part interesting. When he'd finished preaching and praying, Reverend Bacon announced a brief meeting for any townspeople interested as soon as the service was concluded.

Nate thought a town meeting held in the church was a mite unusual. It had been his understanding that most of the meetings took place at Lily's. He had a bad feeling about this gathering in particular.

Reverend Bacon stood at the front of the room to address the people. "You may have heard about the rancher who was injured by a horse last week. I'm sorry to tell you he died Friday."

Sympathetic murmurs passed through the crowd. Nate had heard about the accident, but hadn't known the man.

"Some of us have come up with a way to raise money for the family," he said. "And have fun at the same time. George, come up here and tell them about the idea."

The barber moved to stand beside Reverend Bacon. "I was thinkin' we could have us a base ball tournament. I got to thinking about it, 'cause I read about tournaments in the papers. What they do is charge a fee for each team to sign up. We could have teams, and the money we raise would go to the Stoddard family. Should help the missus hire help and keep the ranch going for the rest of the season."

"Isn't that a great idea?" the reverend asked. "A community fund-raiser."

The suggestion was met with approving voices, and it was suggested that George and the reverend find the sponsors and deposit the entry fees. The amount of the entry fee was decided quickly.

A few church members left after that discussion, and the children were still occupied in a game outdoors. The mayor came forward and brought up the subject of the new livery.

He adjusted his tie, appearing uncomfortable with his position in moderating the discussion. He opened the floor, and the members of the Women's Temperance Prayer League stood at the front of the room.

"We must show our opposition to this newest form of rebellion," Meriel Reed announced. "The saloon owners cannot get away with harming our respectable businesses."

"That's right," Blythe agreed. "If they get no support or customers, they can't continue this practice."

The butcher, an unmarried German immigrant, stood. "With due respect, ma'am-and ma'am-seems to me they wouldn't have been forced to start their own livery if the one already here hadn't turned 'em away. What's a person to do to get their supplies?"

"That's the idea, Mr. Hulbert." Meriel straightened. "By forcing them out of business, we will make them discontinue their sordid occupations."

"This is America," he replied. "They have just as much of a right to their occupations as any of us do."

"And where do you think the tax money for that new school building and the schoolteacher's salary came from?" a rancher asked, standing to speak his piece. "The saloons've been supportin' this town for years."